


Sacred Twenty-Eight Girl and her Blood Traitor Boy

by ViolaMoon



Series: A little bit of love and everything [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fred Weasley Lives, Job Interview, Love in an unexpected place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 19:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20215141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolaMoon/pseuds/ViolaMoon
Summary: Fred Weasley needs someone to help out in the shop, little did he know that an unlikely candidate would bring so much to the table.





	Sacred Twenty-Eight Girl and her Blood Traitor Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This story was also written for the Seventh Round of the Seventh Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition: Not My Department.
> 
> I'm writing as Chaser 1 for The Tutshill Tornados.
> 
> Chaser 1 prompt: Department of International Magical Cooperation: Write about two or more people from different walks of life working together in some way
> 
> These are the prompts I'm using to as a chaser to score some extra points:
> 
> 2: (Dialogue) "Well, this is awkward."
> 
> 4: (Song) "Uptown Girl" by Billy Joel
> 
> 9: (Dialogue) "I love it when someone insults me. It means I don't have to be nice anymore."
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the world J.K. Rowling has created. It's all hers, from Diagon Alley to Hogwarts to all the people living there.
> 
> Thanks to my fantastic team for betaing!
> 
> A/N: Some AUish elements, Fred Weasley is alive, and the Greengrasses lost their fortunes after the war.

Somehow, Fred had survived the war. He didn't know how. He woke up two weeks afterwards in St Mungo's, missing one leg but thankfully still alive. Never again did he want to see the look of concern and relief that was on George's face. The explosion that hit him had left him close to death, but they'd managed to pull him back from the brink —minus his left leg below the knee. But that just meant that they were a right pair, each missing a body part. They contributed as best they could to the repair of Hogwarts and Diagon Alley before setting to work on their own business, doing what they did best, making people laugh. After such a war, people needed that.

George had married Angelina three years ago and moved out. They then had Fabian and Roxanne in close succession which meant that Fred was mostly responsible for the store in Diagon Alley while George stayed closer to his family, managing the store in Hogsmeade. They still invented together, but adult life prevented their constant companionship, and it meant that Fred sorely lacked help in the store. He had Verity, but another pair of hands would be much appreciated. Someone to help brew potions, stack the shelves, a bit of everything really.

It was to great surprise he received an owl from Daphne Greengrass, applying for the job.

The door rang as it opened, and she stepped in. Fred could only remember her vaguely from Hogwarts. She was a Slytherin in the same year as Ron who'd often hung around with that Parkinson girl. There was a regal elegance to her, something that may have been present at school but was more pronounced five years on. She had sleek, dark hair that was arranged into a professional bun, and she wore expensive black robes that fit her perfectly. Something inside Fred burst like he had been hit by lightning, and he was momentarily stunned as she approached the desk.

"Hello, I am Daphne Greengrass. I applied for the shop assistant position." Her voice was formal and stiff.

Fred mentally gathered himself with a small cough and smiled at her. "Of course. I recognise you from school. Welcome. We'll conduct the interview in my office." He gestured with his hand and led the way upstairs, through the potions laboratory to his office, which was a little cluttered like his mind often was. He offered her a seat, sitting down himself.

Fred shuffled a few papers on his desk to make it seem like he had control over the mountain of paperwork that lay strewn across it.

"Well first, thank you for coming in." He cleared his throat again. He didn't like this sort of thing. It was too formal. "I can see from your application that you are quite skilled at potions and come highly recommended by Professor Slughorn." He looked across the desk at her with a smile, one that was potentially a bit more forced than it should be. He found himself attracted to this woman, despite who she was, someone from a 'dark family,' and this confused him.

Daphne nodded. "I enjoy making potions, and I was intrigued by the opportunity to help invent new potions and products."

"Yes, that would be great. My brother George and I are looking for someone with a creative drive who can help us develop products while, at the same time, helping out around the shop." _So far so good_, he thought. "If I may be so bold…" He looked at her pensively. "Why do you wish to work here? Surely with your family's connections, you could have any job you wished."

Daphne's mouth fell open in a way unfitting of her upbringing, and she didn't seem to know how to respond. It took a moment for her to regain her composure before she answered. "Suffice to say, Mr Weasley, I want this job. I would not waste your time and mine if I wanted something else." She adjusted her robes and her face turned back from the expression of mild rage to emotionless stone. Fred could tell that she was withholding something, but what he didn't know. Her pride refused to reveal it.

"I mean no disrespect, I just meant that… you are a lady of high standing. Working in a joke shop doesn't exactly fit that image." Fred tried to save the conversation, but silence rang through the air.

"Well, this is awkward," he said after what seemed like a good minute of silence. "I respect that you don't wish to discuss whatever your motivations are for working here." He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. Despite the stony expression on her face, he could tell that her pride was wounded that she was just as affected by the war as he was. Her wounds were just less obvious.

"Thank you, Mr Weasley," she said in a polite manner, though Fred could tell that she was still a little peeved. Her beautiful blue eyes gave that away.

"Please, call me Fred," he said, trying to turn the conversation around. It was far too formal for his liking. "How about we start out on a trial basis. I'm no good with all this interview stuff. I'd rather judge your character and your work ethic by your actions."

He pulled out a piece of paper and with a flick of his wand, a quill scribbled out a contract for temporary employment. "What do you say, Miss Greengrass? You can start your trial period on Monday."

"Yes, that works for me as well." She smiled, and Fred's stomach did a backflip. Had he managed to reach her in some way? He took the contract from her hands and showed her out.

Sitting back in his office, he looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "What's gotten into you, Freddie boy?" he asked himself aloud. "She's way out of your league, and there's no way she'd give you the time of day." He tried (and failed) to talk his heart out of it.

Besides, she was now an employee, and by the sounds of their short, awkward conversation, she had baggage —a whole train's worth. Did he really want to get involved in that? He reached deep within himself. _Yes_, he did. She was not like any of the girls he'd dated before. She was a Twenty-Eight Girl, and he wanted to show her what it meant to date a Blood Traitor Boy. He just hoped that they could work together in the store too.

Time passed in great dollops and, before he knew it, it was Monday. He'd planned activities to test her abilities and to get to know her during the weekend. He'd tried to hold himself back emotionally. He may have felt something, but he realised after a lot of thinking that it wasn't the best idea to get involved with a girl from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. She was probably betrothed anyway. He had to think about the success of the shop before his love life. He needed help in the shop more than he needed a girlfriend.

They started in the potions laboratory. He handed her a recipe and asked her to replicate it. It was one of their most popular lines, a type of sleeping draft which allowed the drinker to dream of something specific: spending time with a loved one, going on the journey of a lifetime, really anything they put their mind to. It'd sold particularly well after the war.

The first thing Fred noticed was that she worked with a precision to be envied. Despite this, she was also fast. Slughorn hadn't been kidding about her abilities. She had some mad potion-making skills. Fred smiled and checked an item off the list he had in his head. That alone was reason enough to hire her, but he needed to see how she dealt with the customers.

This was the next task. She had to handle gaggles of excited children, teenagers, and the occasional adult who was after something a bit more serious. Fred kept an eye on her for the first few interactions, offering her guidance every once in a while, but for the most part, she was thrown in the deep end. He figured it would allow her to show her character, and as a Slytherin, her self-preservation instinct should kick in.

He started to stock shelves on the other side of the store. He could still see and hear her, but he wasn't close enough to help her. She would have to figure it out for herself, and that was what Fred wanted in an employee.

Just as he was about to place a box of Extendable Ears on the shelf, his ears picked up something from where Daphne was advising a group of teenage girls about their selection of WonderWitch products.

"I would personally recommend the Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher," she said in a voice more animated than she'd ever used with him.

It was then he realised this was the real her. "Imagine the horror!" she continued, to the enraptured gaggle of girls. "You wake up one morning to find the most hideous pimple on the end of your nose!" A few of the girls gasped. "What would you do? Hide in your bed? Fake being sick, so you don't have to attend classes?"

Fred chuckled lightly when he saw a few of the girls nod at her suggestions. Fred and Daphne's eyes met across the crowded shop, and he felt his heart flutter; she was smiling at him.

"Well, those days are over. If you use this, then those unsightly blemishes are gone within seconds! A lifesaver, I tell you!" Daphne finished her sales pitch, and Fred could see the pride in her eyes as several of the girls took a few bottles and even a Pygmy Puff each. Fred hobbled over to the till —he walked at a slower pace since the loss of his leg . He began to ring the girl's transactions up, as Daphne packed them in paper bags with W&W stamped on them.

"Good job!" Fred smiled at her as the girls left the shop. "You're a natural saleswoman. I think those girls would have bought anything you recommended."

"Oh, that was nothing. I just used the product myself at school." She waved her hand away at the compliment. "Though my father did not like us buying it. Or any of your products, for that matter." She frowned, a hand on her chest for a moment as if it pained her. Fred looked on with concern.

"Oh, because of which side we were on?"

Daphne nodded.

"I get it. Of course, he wouldn't want you associating with a Weasley, or someone on our side… We don't exactly share the same values." She frowned and he could tell that he'd touched a nerve.

"Well, would you look at the time. It's almost closing time. How about you head home now? You've had a long first day, and we can start bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow," he said, in an effort to relieve her sour expression. He knew she was trying, and that there was some more profound reason for why she was there, if only she would tell him what it was. Then it would be easier for him to help her or at least to understand her motivations.

The next day, he set her the task of restocking the shelves. That way, she could familiarise herself with all the products and notice which ones sold better than others. In his mind, he'd already hired her. Daphne seemed too good to be true. She was an accomplished potion maker, she could sell sand in the Sahara, and she could also handle the physical tasks with ease. Her standoffishness, however, was his own concern. Granted, it had only been two days, but she did not seem to want to open up to him.

For most of the day, he left her to her own devices. She seemed to be able to sense when something needed to be done, and he was especially grateful for that when he received an owl from Verity who was sick and couldn't come in.

In the usual lull around lunchtime, the door opened with a crack as though someone had used all their weight to push it open. A man in rich silk robes entered the shop, his nose stuck high in the air, so high that Fred wanted to warn him about passing flies.

"My dear!" he said in a snobbish voice that made Fred cringe. "What are you doing here?"

"Geoffrey… I am working. What are you doing here?" Daphne asked, not stopping in her task of refilling the Skiving Snackboxes. Fred moved closer, as nonchalantly as he could. It seemed to him that Daphne did not want that man there. Her body language grew stiffer, and her voice more formal than Fred had ever heard it.

"What am I doing here? Imagine my surprise when I visited the Greengrass estate to take my future wife out for lunch only to find out that she has taken a job like a common witch!" He placed his hand on his chest as if it was utterly unthinkable. "And not just any job, but a job with a _Weasley. _Do you have no pride for your lineage, Daphne?"

Fred watched as Daphne's face turned bright red and the voice that followed was not at all what he expected. "I am not your bloody future-wife, Geoffrey Rowle. I made myself perfectly clear that I would not associate myself with a former Death Eater. My family has suffered enough because of _that monster. _Now, leave me alone."

"I will not take no for an answer, Daphne; our betrothal was decided before we were even born. You are coming with me!" Geoffrey sneered and attempted to grab her wrist.

Fred, who'd been siddling closer and closer to the pair, grabbed the man by his wrist. "I will ask you, sir, not to grab my employee. I believe she asked you to leave."

Daphne looked from Fred to Geoffrey, surprised to see him there. Fred wore a face of steel; he wouldn't allow someone to come in and force one of his employees to leave or do anything they didn't want. Regardless of who the other person was.

"I don't have to go anywhere, you... redhaired, Muggle-loving cripple! I am a Pureblood of the Sacred Twenty-Eight! You have no right to…"

There was a flash of red light, and Fred blew on his wand like a cowboy in one of the American movies his dad liked to watch. "I love it when someone insults me. It means I don't have to be nice anymore." He gave Daphne a flirty smile and levitated the stunned man out of the shop before reviving him.

"You are banned from any Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes store for the rest of your life, and if you come near Daphne again, you will see double and not just because I'm a twin." He pocketed his wand, asked the few remaining customers (those who hadn't left during the argument) to leave and shut the door, turning the sign to "Closed."

"I am so sorry about Geoffrey… and having to close the store early." Daphne jumped in surprise as Fred wrapped her in his arms.

"You don't need to apologise for that git. I'm your boss, and I must protect my employees from pompous arses." He took a step back and looked at her bright red face. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate." He felt a blush creeping up his own cheeks.

"No, no. It's fine. Thank you for sticking up for me." Daphne shuffled back and forth, all hint of formality gone. "Despite how much I want to escape that life, it always seems to catch up with me." Her shoulders sank in disappointment and regret. "My family's fortune is gone and with it, every bit of influence we had. All because my father wanted to support the Dark Lord in his cause."

Tears formed in her eyes, and Fred led her upstairs to his office, handing her a box of tissues. "I am sorry about that," he said, a hint of sympathy in his voice, not too much, however, as not to upset the proud Slytherin even more. "I think you have set yourself a worthy goal of making a name for yourself, one of your own making."

"My father wanted me to marry someone he approved of, someone who shares his ideals. He does not care what I want, what I need in my life. He does not care that my sister is sick. She at least married a Malfoy. A chance to restore the family honour, he says. I don't want that life; he can rot in Azkaban for what he has done to our family."

Fred felt her quiet determination and felt drawn to her; he gave her a piece of paper.

"What's this?" she asked, looking it over.

"I want you to work here permanently. I'll help you make your own life, a life you can be proud of, if you'll let me." He gave her a charming smile and was met with one of her own.

"Thank you, Fred. I look forward to working with you for many years to come." Her hand reached over and squeezed his. "And maybe you could take this Twenty-Eight girl out on a date? Where your people like to hang out?" She gave him an unexpectedly saucy wink, and Fred grinned back at her. This girl had shaken his world. He was determined to return the favour.


End file.
